Hold On
by Smile True
Summary: When one of the Curtis brothers is hurt by a drunk motorcycle driver, Ponyboy and Sodapop must rise to the challenges life shoves at them.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Outsiders or any of S.E. Hinton's original characters, nor do I make any money from anything I post on this website.**

 **Pony POV**

The nurse drones on and on as we walk deeper into the maze of hallways. But I can barely hear her as worry overtakes my thoughts, clouding over my brain. "Awful lucky he was, coulda been a whole lot worse," she says as if that makes me feel any better. As if it's going to help Darry. Or lighten the load that just crashed upon Soda's shoulders. "Fractured ribs, torn shoulder, concussion, large laceration wound, minor traumatic pneumothorax." "Amazing how minimal the injury is, judging by how he looked when he came in. We're going to have to keep him overnight for observation and if everything goes well he'll be free to go." I can already see Darry's reaction to having to stay overnight in the hospital. Not pretty. My attention flicks back to Soda's heavy footsteps as they pound the tile floor next to me. The twinkle in his eye is hidden by lines of tears he refuses to let fall.

The nurse finally leads us into the room where Darry is lying, asleep. I hear Soda's sharp intake of breath next to me. "Darry." He says, so quietly I'm not even sure it could be classified as a whisper. My throat burns and my stomach twists as I look at Darry. The normally strong, unfazed Darry. His hairline is littered with bruises that continue down his right side. His normal, broad shoulder appearance looks shrunken, his arm in a sling, his head bandaged.

"Shit." Soda mutters under his breath. I couldn't have said it better myself. Darry never got hurt, he was Superman after all, so it comes as a shock to my system to see him so hurt.

Soda settles himself into a chair, and I follow suit. I watch my older brother's injured form and try my best to ignore the impending feeling of dread that seems to be suffocating the very air I breathe.

After about an hour of nothingness, long after the limits of Soda's attention span, Darry begins to stir. "Hey Dar," Soda says in a calming tone I've never heard him use with Darry before. "You awake?" Darry's eyes open slowly and rest on Soda.

"Hey, little buddy." Darry murmurs. His gaze flicks toward me. "Hey, Pone."

I give my best smile, but even I could tell it was half-hearted. "Good to see you awake."

He exhales and almost smiles, but winces in the process. "Well?" He says, exhaustion wringing his tone.

"Well, what?" Soda asks, confused.

"Let's go," Darry says as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Where?"

"Home. I'm awake, aren't I?" He tries and fails to sound convincing as pain laces his voice. I'm not sure if he actually thinks he's supposed to go home or just wants to get out of here as fast as humanly possible. Either way, it's not happening.

"Fat chance. Darry, no way. They need to keep you overnight for observation." I say before Soda gets a chance too.

"Pony, it's too much money. I'll be okay. Let's go home." Darry pleads with Soda and me. I'm taken aback by Darry's abrupt assessment of our financial situation. He normally didn't talk about it in front of me, at least not when he knew I was there. The debate continued before Darry falls asleep mid-argument, something I would never have expected out of my brother who would stay up to all hours of the night waiting for me to get home. I feel bad Darry loses his chance to defend his stance, but at least honestly it was easier to not have to argue, and he was getting some rest that I'm sure was much needed.

—

I wake up to the sound of Darry's heavy breathing and the smell of rubbing alcohol and hand sanitizer. Soda's just starting to wake in the chair beside mine. We converse the situation quietly until the nurse walks in. Darry wakes up with the sound of her voice. The nurse starts explaining that Darry's free to go, pending a few conditions. "You'll need quite a while to get back to yourself. The doctor wants to see you back here on Tuesday to see how you're progressing. Until then, bedrest." I swear I hear Darry snort at that remark. She adds a couple extra instructions, that the bandages on his back should be changed daily, that he'll sleep most of the day for a while, and that he shouldn't be left alone for more than an hour or so at a time. After she finishes the rest of her speech she sends us home with a bag of wound dressings and pain meds and makes Darry ride out in a wheelchair. I'm glad, 'cause I don't think he could walk that far.

We get Darry into the car with considerable effort from all parties involved. On the ride home, Soda pesters him until he reluctantly gives us a broad picture of what happened. He had been roofing a house in Soc territory and decided to walk to the nearest gasoline station for lunch. Some idiot had been drunk, and it wasn't even 1 pm. They'd been riding a motorbike and swerved. The motorcycle smashed toward the sidewalk and collided with Darry. The dimwit hadn't even given a half effort to stop it. Darry is obviously unhappy about sharing. I think he hurt his pride.

Soda parks the truck and hops out. I follow him around the truck and open the door on Darry's side. Soda struggles to maneuver Darry out of the car. This is an event, as the right side of Darry's torso is pretty much useless. Soda manages to get Darry out of the truck and starts toward the house. Darry's leaning heavily on Soda and I'm scared they'll both topple over before they reach the steps. It's not that Soda isn't strong, he is. But he ain't as strong as Darry, and with him practically carrying Darry it makes me nervous. Darry isn't exactly small.

I walk alongside them as they reach the steps. I step in, and together Soda and I manage to half drag, half carry Darry up the steps. Darry is silent through the entire process, but his face is exhausted and contorted in pain. I can tell Darry hates this, needing help, not being able to do everything himself. He'd always been a bit prideful, so this was a challenge, to say the least.

By some miracle, we get into the house and plop Darry onto the couch so everyone can take a breather before moving him to his bed. I have no idea how we're going to manage this, and I can't help but wonder if we've bitten off more than we can chew. I shake away that thought and turn on the television, trying to provide some distraction.

 **Thank you so,so much for reading and please leave a review with comments, suggestions, or anything else you'd like to add! I'll update soon. Have a lovely day.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Pony POV**

"Pony!"

"Ponyboy!" I hear my name shouted by Darry's gruff voice and try to shake away the nightmare. It doesn't work. I rub the sleep from my eyes.

"You okay, Pone?" Darry asks quietly, his voice laced with concern. I sit up in the armchair Sodapop and I had dragged into Darry's bedroom. Soda had taken a late shift to try and cover some bills, so I was on "Darry Watch" as Soda jokingly called it. Darry had put up quite the protest, but instructions from the hospital were instructions, after all, so he lost that battle.

I feel my cheeks flush red and I'm thoroughly embarrassed at my nightmare, even more so at waking up Darry. "Yeah, Dar, it's fine." I try to sound convincing, but Darry doesn't buy it. I realize I'm still shaking.

"Really?" He questions.

I sigh. "Just a bit spooked is all. You should probably go back to sleep 'ya know. Doc's orders."

"Hey now Ponyboy, I ain't buyin' that for a second. C'mere." He orders me.

Confused, I leave the soft armchair and walk to Darry's bed. I look at him quizzingly. He runs a hand down his face.

"No, come here." He softly pats the bedsheets with his good arm. I climb up into his bed and lay down beside my older brother. "I know I might be hurt right now, and I ain't no Sodapop, but I'm still your brother. I'm still here for you, you hear?"

I'm mildly taken aback by Darry's softness, but I smile. "Yup," I feel Darry lay his good arm across me, just like Soda, and close my eyes. I hear Darry's rhythmic breathing and can tell he's already back asleep.

llllllll

I wake up to the sun streaming through a crack in the curtains. I glance at the clock on the wall. Eleven. I cannot believe I slept that late. I wriggle my way out from under Darry's arm, trying hard not to disturb him. I notice him stir a bit. I wander into the kitchen, expecting to see Soda. Instead, I'm greeted by a note on the ice-box.

 _Left for work, picked up another extra shift. Be home by three at the latest. Make Darry eat something when he wakes up._ I manage to decode the message through Soda's less than ideal penmanship. Soda's been working too hard, he's gonna collapse from exhaustion if he doesn't lighten up on his hours. I know we ain't gonna make it if we don't get enough money, but Darry's only been out of work a couple days and Soda's already nearly doubled his hours. Honestly, if they would just let me get a job Soda wouldn't have to work so hard all the time. Besides, I could quit after Darry's back on his feet. It ain't rocket science.

I rummage through the ice-box for something Darry might eat. Chocolate milk and an egg sandwich? That might be hard to eat with just one arm. I hardly even finish my thought when I hear a crash from what sounds suspiciously like Darry's room. I take off barreling toward his bedroom at top speed. I smash through the door and see Darry hunched over his nightside table. He's sitting on his bed with his arm on the table and his head laying on top of it. His lamp is smashed on the floor.

"Dar?" I walk to his side. "Hey, what happened."

"I slipped." He croaks. "It's fine. I just slipped. I was standing up leaning against the table, and I fell and hit my head a bit. It's fine."

"What were you doing getting up, Darry? You know you're not s'posed to without someone around."

"What am I, five? I can get up if I want, _little_ brother!" He says loudly. Then groans in pain from the loud noise. I see his whole body tense up in hurt.

"Okay, okay I'm sorry." I back off a bit, his pride won't be broken, that's for sure. "Can you sit up, you think?" I ask carefully.

"Yeah." He says quietly. He pushes off the nightstand with his good arm, and I place a hand on his chest to help him lift his torso, then swap to his back to be sure he doesn't fall backward, just in case. His arm is stained with blood from a fresh cut on his forehead.

"Oh, Dar. Youch." I try to get a better look at the lash on his head. It's not deep, just bleeding. "Alright, here." I pull a handkerchief from off his dresser, which is gladly within reach. I hold it against his forehead until the bleeding slows. "I'm gonna go grab you a band-aid, I'll be right back." I scurry to the medicine cabinet and back to Darry's room, armed with aspirin and a band-aid. "Here" I seal the bandage onto his head. "You're gonna have one heck of a headache," I say, offering the pills.

"Yeah. Thanks, Pone." He swallows the pills dry.

"I should get this cleaned up before someone loses a finger," I say, picking up what's left of the lamp. I grab the lightbulb peices and toss them in the small garbage can in the corner of Darry's room. "Better find you a new light." I try to make some kind of conversation. I eventually give up, and go into the kitchen to try again to find something for Darry to eat.

 **Thank you so much for reading! I'm sorry these chapters have been short. Please consider leaving a review with constructive critism, ideas, or anything else. I take requests! Have a lovely day!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Alright, Y'all know the deal. I don't own The Outsiders, nor any of SE Hintons characters. (No matter how much I wish I did) Also, no this website does not pay me for anything I publish here. :)**

 **AND... sorry sorry sorry for taking forever to update! With break and school and sketchy wifi its been hard to get updates in! I'll do better though, I promise!**

 **POV Pony**

Soda crashes through the door and kicks his shoes off, as he has done every day of his existence.

"Hey Soda." He turns to me and grins his signature reckless grin.

"Hey Pone. How's Dar?" He swings open the icebox and pours some chocolate syrup into a glass of milk, stirring it with a spoon.

"Same, fine," I say, debating whether or not I should tell him about the shattered lamp.

"And?" He raises his eyebrows at me.

"And what?"

"C'mon pony, you always have got some story to tell about a book or somethin' that happened." He thinks a beat, then narrows his eyes at me. "Wait, what happened? You're not talking, somethings up." How Soda figures these things out so quickly, I will never truly understand. Maybe my acting just needs some work.

"Nothing. We just broke Darry's lamp." Soda has broken lots of things in his time, he's not always the most careful individual alive.

"That's it? Man, you know how often I break shit? A lot. We've probably got an extra laying around somewhere. Is Darry asleep?"

"Yeah. Are you done working for today? It's a Sunday, Soda. Because I was thinking." I take a breath, knowing he'll probably shut me down before the words are halfway out of my mouth. "I was thinking, maybe I could get a job. I mean, we're going into spring break next week, and I could work less during school days. I mean, Soda, you just can't cover Darry and your paycheck. It isn't gonna happen."

"Pony, I'm doing the best I can. It'll all work out, alright? If you get a job Darry might actually explode. And that would just be a mess. " Soda tries his best to draw some humor from the situation, but I don't buy it.

"He'd be even more upset if the state comes by and sees a pile of final notice bills. And we both know how that'll end."

"It ain't gonna come to that, and if it does we can talk. But Pony, its only been a couple days, it'll be alright. Don't worry." I'm not sure if he really means it. He sure seems like he does, but Soda's awful good at pretending in order to try to protect me.

"Listen, Soda I know you want to do it all yourself. You're a lot like Darry that way. But you're only, what, two years older than I am? I can do it, Soda, I promise. My grades ain't gonna drop, and if they do I'll quit, guarantee."

Soda exhales loudly and runs a hand through his hair. He looks toward the ground. I know he's aware that it would really be the best option. Getting him and even more so Darry to admit to it is an entirely different ballgame. "I dunno Pone. I guess if you really wanna you could see about maybe some odd jobs or somethin'"

I'm shocked, to say the least, that he said yes. I'm ecstatic until I realize how much of a financial strain we're under that he let me get a job. My older brothers try their best to shelter me from everything they can. I wish they'd stop, I'm not stupid. I learn about it sooner or later anyway.

"And Ponyboy, don't you say nothin' to Darry. Let me tell him, alright?" I nod, glad I'm not gonna have to be the one to tell Darry. Probably not a pretty sight. No, definitely not a pretty sight.

"I won't. I was asking around and one of the restaurants on Main has an opening for a buss boy. They said I can start Thursday." I hope Soda doesn't shut down me starting so soon.

He sighs. "Alright." He says, but I notice an unconvinced tone in his response. I ignore the doubt and grin at him. It feels good to know I'll actually be doing something, be helping, not just a mouth to feed. Soda and Darry have never called me a burden, but every single morning when I watch Darry leave to waste away his intelligence on a rooftop, I'm reminded of what he did for me, and can't think of anything I've done for him. He gave up a scholarship, he gave up popularity, he gave up a chance to drag himself out of this neighboorhood. For me. I hate feeling like I'm a burden, like I'm useless. I know its dumb, but its hard to ignore. I remember when Mom and Dad died, how all that weight crashed on Darry. How he never cried, not one tear. Just that terrible hopeless look that filled his eyes. And the silence that seemed to surround Darry in those unnerving days after.

Darry has the loudest silence you'll ever hear.

His silence is a storm, powerful and terrifying without even realizing. It scares me sometimes when its quiet in our house. It was not built to be quiet, it was built to be filled with music and yells and clattering pans and snarky one-liners. Silence is unnatural in this house.

Yet as I listen, I realize Soda went to take a nap, Darry's asleep. And we're back to silence.

 **Thank you so much for reading and please leave a review with constructive criticism, requests, comments, knock-knock jokes, or Shakespearean sonnets ~ actually though pretty please do consider leaving a review, and have a lovely day!**

 **Xx,**

 **Smile True**


	4. Chapter 4

**Yeah, so I don't own The Outsiders or make any money from this website. With legal stuff out of the way, let's get on with it.**

 **Pony POV**

I am torn away from my homework by the sound of the phone ringing and drag myself out of my room to grab it off the receiver.

"Yeah?"

"Hey, Pony it's gonna be another two hours before I'm home. One of the guys on the next shift called in sick so I said I'd work half of it." I consider questioning this, bet the argument with Soda about his working hours has yet to end on my behalf, and besides arguments are always messier over the phone. Not that we really argue, it's always me voicing concern and him brushing me off. Not quite an argument.

I sigh. "Yeah, alright. See you at eight." Soda says goodbye, and I return the phone to the receiver.

"Hey, Darry it's gonna be another couple hours before Soda gets home," I say, walking in the direction of the couch Darry is on, watching some cheesy cartoon. He is too tall to fit comfortably lying down. His head is on the armrest and his legs are folded to fit. He moves into a sitting position with a poorly concealed wince. Crap. I've been doing homework in my room since around three-thirty, it's six now. He hadn't seemed sick. He's turned down food and mostly slept, but he'd slept a lot these past couple days and I figured he'd eaten while I was at school, so I didn't think about it.

"You feel okay Dar? I say, standing in front of him. He says yes. His groggy nature and glassy eyes say otherwise.

"Really? Darry, that was a rhetorical question. I'm willing to bet you've got a fever." I feel his forehead with my hand, confirming my hypothesis. "Definitely a fever, I'll be right back." I grab a glass of water, some pills, and a wet washcloth and bring it back to him. "Here, I'm gonna go give Soda a call."

"He's at work. I'm fine."

"Darry-" I try to argue.

He cuts me off. "It's alright. If you're so worried about it I'll go lie down in my room."

"Yeah, okay," I say, fully planning to tell Soda anyway. I stand right next to Darry as he pushes himself off the couch. Darry leans against the wall for support as he walks down the hallway toward his bedroom. He's walking kind of okay now, his body is starting to heal. But right now he's walking like he just got out of the hospital and appears absolutely exhausted. Darry stops and leans even more against the wall for a second before he collides with the floor. I try to catch him but fail, only slightly breaking the fall. He slides down the wall and lands in a kind of sitting position, propped up against the wall.

"Darry!" I say, slightly shaking his shoulder. He grunts a sort of response and opens his eyes. He leans his head back against the wall. I breathe a sigh of relief that he's awake. "Stay here, I'm gonna go call Soda."

No response.

"Darry?" he groans a response of sorts.

"Can you stand up?" I ask. His silence is enough of an answer. "Well, I can't get you up by myself so I either call Sodapop or an ambulance, I don't care which." I think of how Darry carried me into the house when I was hurting after the fire. How he looked out for me when I was sick. And I can't do anything for him except call my other older brother to come help me. I am utterly useless.

"Soda." He says as I knew he would, given the choices. I walk over and grab the phone to dial the DX. When someone else answers I ask for Soda.

"Yeah, Ponyboy?" He asks.

"It's Darry, can you come home? He fell, he's got a fever. He's awake now but I can't get him up." I can almost hear the smile fade from Soda's mouth.

"I'll be home in a minute, hold tight." He says. I can hear him yelling something inaudible to someone on his end of the receiver, then the line goes dead. I go and grab a thermometer, then go back to Darry. I hand him the thermometer and he accepts it. After a couple minute, I check it.

"101.8. Not horrible." I breathe a sigh of relief. "Not good, but not horrible." Soda arrives quickly, and I'm willing to bet he broke a record on how fast he got out of work and home. Normally he takes forever to get home, walking slowly, talking to people, flirting with girls. But by the way he's panting it's pretty clear he's sprinted the whole way. I notice Steve is in tow. Soda crouches in front of Darry and starts talking to him. After Soda concludes that something is definitely wrong, which didn't take long considering the fact that Darry didn't protest going to the ER, which is basically the least Darry thing ever. If Darry thinks he needs to see a doctor, it means he either is going completely insane, or he is really hurting.

Soda supports Darry from one side and Steve helps from the other. They make their way toward the door at a pitiful crawl. I hold open the door and then follow them to the truck. We all squish ourselves into the truck. The ride seems so much longer than it should. We finally pull into the parking lot and Soda is practically out of the truck before it even stops. He runs through the hospital doors, and I guess it must be a slow night because not even a minute later a nurse emerges pushing a wheelchair with Soda leading the way.

Steve and I get out of the truck and Soda and him try and help Darry into the wheelchair. The nurse pushes Darry back toward the ER entrance and the rest of us follow. When we get into the hospital a doctor starts to question Darry, then motions for then nurse to bring him into a different part of the hospital. I move to follow, but Soda puts a hand on my shoulder. Confused, I turn to look at him as Darry disappears from sight.

"Pony, it's hard for Darry to not be able to be strong in front of you. Let's just give him some space while the doctors do their job. He doesn't want to worry you, he always tries to be Superman." Soda smiles a worried kind of smile and shakes his head. I guess it makes sense, he was just silent through pain when he was near me. And I never even took the time to notice.

 **Hi! Thanks for reading. Sorry I took so long to update.. I just feel like no ones interested in this story so it's harder to find motivation. And I've also been really busy lately. But anyway, thanks so much for reading and please consider leaving a review! Xx**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Outsiders, nor any of S.E. Hinton's original characters.**

Darry always tried to carry more than he could manage. He never seemed to know that it was alright to struggle, to hurt. The same shoulders that carried too many bundles of roofing carried the weight of the world. They carried straight A's when he was in school, and never-ending bills after. They held up Soda and I and when we couldn't even stand, he went to work, went to the store, fought for custody, fought for me, fought to do more, to let me become more. And never once did I hear him complain.

That attitude hasn't always helped him, though. He would insist he was fine until he was red in the face, he couldn't admit to not always being Superman. The doctor said he'll be alright but he needs to take things slow. Turns out the stitches on his back had gotten infected. It's a good thing we caught it when we did, or it would've meant more nights in the hospital. But they just gave him IV antibiotics for a few hours then sent him home and told us to make sure he takes his meds, drinks lots of water, gets lots of sleep, and to come back if he gets worse or the fever doesn't break in 48 hours. So here we are back home in the living room. Darry's in Dad's old chair, asleep I hope. Soda ran out to grab some groceries. We haven't gone shopping in a while, and you can only eat so much cereal. Not only that, we're out of milk. So off to the store Soda went.

I glance at my watch. 9 pm. I stand up from the couch and flick off the TV. I wasn't really even watching it anyway. I cross the room to Dad's old chair and look at Darry for a second. His characteristically ungreased hair is plastered to his forehead from the fever that has still yet to break. I place my hand gently across his forehead. He opens his eyes and looks at me questioningly.

"Just seeing if your fever broke," I explain.

"I coulda' told you that myself." He says slowly with a sort of smile as he shifts in his seat, then frowns. "The answer is no." I feel bad. You can tell he feels like shit because, in all honesty, he looks like it. For as long back remember Darry hardly ever got sick. But when he did it hit him like a ton of bricks. I don't know what to say. What do you say to someone who fights so hard to control everything and suddenly can't?

I can't come up with anything helpful to say, so instead, I just tell him Soda should be home soon and shuffle off to bed. I leave the door half open so I can hear if he needs something, not that he'd call for me anyway. I can't sleep, so instead I lay staring at the ceiling until I hear the creak of the door opening and the pattern of Soda's footsteps against the floorboards.

"How you feelin' Dar?" He asks carefully.

"Fine."

"Bull." Soda says, exasperated. "You ain't gotta lie to me Darry. It's alright to hurt sometimes, you know that?"

No response.

"Dammit, Darry! Tell me you feel like shit, or that your head hurts, or whatever the hell else. Just talk to me, for Christ's sake!"

"I'm just tryin' not to worry you guys. You've got enough to think about."

"Darry, it makes me even more worried when you don't tell us nothin' because you're so damn prideful you can't even say when you don't feel well. How am I supposed to know if you're actually alright if you never tell us when you're not?" He pauses for a beat. "Darry, it took you nearly splittin' your head open falling over for you to even admit somethin' was wrong!"

"Okay. I'm sorry." I can't believe my own ears. He just apologized. He just admitted to not being okay. Holy shit.

"Alright, let's try again. How do you feel?" Soda says slowly.

"Not great. Better than I did. What about you, Sodapop? Those are some long-ass shifts you're taking."

"Don't you get on me about that too now. I've already got Pony hounding me about that." Soda gripes.

"He's not wrong," Darry says.

"Oh, don't act like you'd do any differently. We both know you'd work 20 hours a day and roof every damn house in America if you had too." Soda exhales. "You know the kid wants to get a job. Already has one lined up. Figured it'd be better to hear it from me." I sit up, straining to make sure I hear every word of my oldest brothers response. the

"I dunno. I'll talk to him about it later. I hate to say it but we could really use the extra money. The millisecond I go back to work though, he's quitting." Darry sounds so defeated, quickly swapping the topic. "You ready to hit the hay?" Soda must have nodded because I hear Darry stand up and the two pairs of footsteps plod into Darry's room. One pair emerges, and then I see Soda's silhouette in the doorway. I catch a glimpse of his face as he nods goodnight to me, his exhaustion shockingly pronounced. He flops onto the bed, still dressed and I know he's asleep before he even hits the mattress.

 **Thank you so, so much for reading and sorry for the delay in the update! Hopefully, you liked this chapter and please consider leaving a review! Have a fantastic day,**

 **-Smile**


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